Emerging Badgers

I have a lovely smart phone holder made by my friend, the ceramic artist Jason Hooper. I'm thinking that mine is the only one with two badgers descending from the running glaze. Do you see?

If you're interested in seeing more of Jason's work, you can do so here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/JasonHooperPottery. 

e A r n i e

Alejandra Almuelle

A more complete exploration into the artist herself is warranted, but I haven't had the opportunity to interview her yet. I have known Alejandra Almuelle for years and I've watched her art grow. Her truly fascinating personality is reflected in her work, as she explores subjects that interest her. And, in her life she never stops exploring – exploring her own life, the world around her, traveling and people. Her mind seems always to be working, and when I see her it's as if I've stepped into whatever she's contemplating at that particular moment.

I haven't been able to figure out if the emotional response that I get from looking at her work is what she intends. I always feel that it has a dreamlike quality. It's not a pleasant, sugarplums-dancing-through-my-head kind of dream, but the kind of dream that leaves me wondering – later, when I think about and try to understand them – what my mind was doing.

Here are some pictures that I've taken recently. I encourage you to visit her on Facebook. As far as I know, she doesn't have any other web presence at the moment. www.facebook.com/alejandra.almuelle 

Print Fired

Last week as we were picking up clay at Armadillo Clay & Supplies and we stumbled upon an exhibit next door called Print Fired. We came across Mary Fischer, whose work is there and who was keeping shop for the morning. She told us about an exhibit that would be happening next week (yesterday) at Flatbed Press called Flatbed Contemporary Print Fair 2015. It was an exhibit specifically for printers, with artists from across the country who use variety methods.

So, this week instead of hitting our regular thrift stores on Saturday morning, we made our way to Flatbed Press. There we saw Debbie Little Wilson. She's a printer friend of ours and she's fabulous in so many ways. And I'm in love with her chickens. We saw a couple of demonstrations and saw some incredible printing. I even got to make a print of a frog. 

Today, we went to a demonstration put on by none other than the same Mary Fischer. She prints, but on clay, which is what the whole Print Fired exhibit is about. She has traveled to Hungary and learned a method of printing from a photograph onto clay, which was the theme of her demonstration today, assisted by the fabulous Debbie Little Wilson. 

I have had printers explain to me how they do what they do and they always get to a point at which what they're saying translates in my mind to "Something magic happens" because I just can't get it. I listen, and I understand and then they cross a line and my puzzled mind stops. It just can't. This weekend, though, I was able to get it. I have an uncomfortable, sneaky suspicion that I witnessed a different process than that which has always eluded me. The part that puzzles me is when they explain that oil and water don't mix. I know this, but that doesn't explain how you take a flat surface and put oil and water onto it, then place it onto a piece of paper and come out with a beautiful print with neither oil stains or watermarks. But, I am proud to say that I understand solarplates and how to print with them. I haven't done it, but I've witnessed it and I understood. At no point did my poor little mind look bewildered and have to insert "something magic happens" into the part that it couldn't grasp.

Below is an album of the pictures I took at the demonstration. The images are not very good because the light wasn't great and I wasn't close, but I think it's interesting enough to overlook that.

Click to see Album

Thrift Store Heaven

August 18, 2012

Yesterday I went to meet up with Nameless and Patricia. You may remember them from my experience at The Oasis. Well, my friend, Sarah Fisch, posted on her Facebook that she was eating Pollo Pibil in Los Angeles and that caused me to crave Cochinita Pibil. There is only one restaurant that I know of in Austin that makes this and it's called Azul Tequila; on Lamar and Ben White (next to Target). So, I called Nameless and informed him that we needed to go there to eat soon. He said that Patricia had already expressed interest in getting together for dinner because she was going to be in town. So, things were loosely arranged.

I met up with Patricia at the corporate coffee shop on Anderson Lane near MoPac. We broke out my new netbook, which I am currently writing on, and searched around for galleries and other goings-on. Nameless had suggested going to thrift stores, possibly because every time he calls me on a Sunday I'm at Goodwill browsing.

It turns out, Patricia is the absolute queen of thrift stores. She didn't even need the computer when it came to that topic; she IS the database, complete with ratings – her own and her friends'.

We got a late start, from a thrift-store-shopping point of view. Next-to-New closed at 4 pm. I demanded that since they are in a service industry they should stay open later than that. She told me to take it up with the Episcopalians. So, we slipped over to Savers. It was more or less like a Goodwill, which means that you never know what's going to be there. I found a raku piece and two other pieces of hand-thrown pottery – two small glasses. The two others were by the same artist and he/she seems to be more advanced as a ceramics artist.

Then we went to Top Drawer. I have been seeing this place since I've lived in Austin and I had never been in there. Wow! What a place! I saw a Japanese figurine that I thought my sister would love. He was only $6.  While we were growing up my mother had two little statues that seem to be in the same style, and I thought that Lottie had them now. I sent her an image of him and then called her. She happened to be in the middle of an anxiety attack so I talked to her for a while. Then, when she saw the picture her voice changed and I felt that she genuinely liked him. Guess what. He was half off! $3!! She doesn't have the other two, but she will now have this one. He's missing a hand, but after 8 children all of my mother's things are chipped and missing limbs and digits.

Japanese Figurine from Top Drawer

Nameless found a set of 9 Mikasa cup/saucers. $1 apiece after the markdown. They also had a set of 4 Wedgewood cup and saucers. I was tempted to get them just because, but I wasn't in love with them and $35 is $35. Nameless also found two nice frames made of Birdseye wood (this is according to him and Patricia). They are very nice frames. I told him I'd buy them for him, but he told me to buy them for me. I have them; we'll see what we do with them.

We did end up at Goodwill – the one on Lamar and 2222. It was kind of a let-down after Top Drawer, but Patricia was having more fun. She found a glass bowl for water for her cats. I found a piece of ceramic, which I believe is a Tim Farmer original. It's a pancake bowl; it has a handle and a spout to pour the batter onto a griddle. I don't usually find 4 pieces of hand-thrown ceramics in the same day.

Afterward we went to La Palapa for dinner. (Azul Tequila was very far and they were very hungry.) After dinner we went to Whole Foods in downtown, which is our regular dessert place. We headed straight to the back and Nameless and Patricia got what they always share – a chocolate-lined edible shell with cream in the bottom and mixed berries on top. I got what I always get, a crème brûlée. They put fresh berries on top just because they love me. I think that this is a wonderful tradition. We ate outside under a wooden cover next to what would be a water course, if they had water running through it.

On the way back we stopped at Wheatsville so Patricia could go grocery shopping. I had been there before, but suddenly I saw it with new eyes. That place kind of rocks. I'm definitely going to have to go back and check out their bulk rice selection and their produce. Nameless found some cream that helped the calluses on his hands. He didn't buy it, but he sampled the hell out of it. I'll probably get him some when I'm in there next. It's not cheap, but it's good stuff. Their dishwasher recommended it, and that's a recommendation worth taking when it comes to hand-cream.

I like our little adventures. I love having friends who enjoy doing things like this, and it was Patricia's turn to shine. She knows her way around thrift stores and Wheatsville.

Raku Piece from Savers

Two Ceramic Glasses from Savers

Tim Farmer Pancake Bowl – Goodwill

Frames from the Top Drawer

Details of Frames

I'll write more later. Until then I remain,

Yours truly,

eArnie

Pieces of my art

6-26-2012

The other night I was sleeping. I had been reading and then got too sleepy for that, so I rolled over, turned off the lamp and that act woke me up just a little bit, so I settled in under my covers and relished how wonderful it was to be in bed when I'm tired and sleepy and wanting really to continue conscious for a while so that I could appreciate how wonderful it feels, but without realizing it I was drifting off to the pleasant thoughts of security and peace.

Then I was reminded that I own cats. The scream from the other room followed by, and overlapped by, the crash of something breaking on the tile floor jerked me awake and upright in bed at the same time. I've grown accustomed to them screaming at the cats outside the window after I'm in bed, but that is not generally accompanied by the sound of breakage. So, I got up and ran into the other room, because after all I do have neighbors upstairs and if I can hear every step they take I'm certain that they can hear my cats screaming at the tops of their feline voices and destroying everything I own. The thing was, the crashing and breaking kept going. It wasn't just one thing falling to the ground, it was a series of crashes. One of the cats came running past me into my bedroom with a plastic grocery bag following behind her as if it were chasing her the hell out of its territory.

In my room the cat (Raku) was under the bed, of course, so I had to pull it away from the wall to get at her, just to make sure she wasn't being strangled by the handles of the bag. I was only able to hold her long enough to get the bag off of her leg and make sure she was not dying, then she squirmed out of my hands and back under the bed. Then I had to find the other two and make sure they were okay. Carmela, the special cat, was watching with her crossed eyes huge in dismayed interest, standing – not sitting – with her nose in the air, looking around to see what was going on. Anastasia wasn't so easy to find, and honestly I don't remember where I did find her. But, she was fine and so it must have been only Raku who was having issues.

This is where it gets very confusing. I have no idea how all of this happened, even after I figured out what did happen.

My next job was to see what had broken. It was pottery, not glass. Good, less danger of sharp things to cut my feet. Then I just had to pray that it was from an artist who was still alive. (My cats have a fondness for breaking things that I can't replace.) I picked up the shards and collected them in my hand. They started on the other side of the living room and continued all the way to my bedroom, and there had been a couple of pieces in the bag that I freed Raku from. I recognized the art and the glazes, but it was late and I had been woken up and I couldn't figure out who it was. I was convinced that they had gotten into the closet and into a box and broken a Richella, but as I looked at it I realized that it – at least – wasn't one of hers.

Little by little I began to place the glaze with Michael Obranovich, a Dallas artist. It's from his Obsidian collection. I have a set of his plates and two coffee cups (had two coffee cups) and a few casseroles. I LOVE them. I could tell from the pieces of handle and the curve of the others parts that it was one of my coffee cups, though I could not for the life of me figure out how it got to a place that it could be broken. I'm certain that I did not leave it lying around in a plastic grocery bag. If it had been on the kitchen counter, how did the majority of the broken remains end up three feet away in front of the spare bathroom? I can tell why there was a trail of pieces across the room and why I kept hearing crashes. The cup was in the bag and as she ran it kept crashing against the tile floor, startling her even more. The bag was shredded and pieces were falling out as she ran. She must have screamed because the bag was attached to her and she couldn't get it off. But, where was the bag (I don't leave them around because cats can strangle themselves with them) and where was the cup and how did the cup get inside the bag?

Even having slept and looked at the situation from an awake state of mind I cannot figure it out. But, here are the pieces, next to its partner – still intact.

I'll write more later. Until then I remain,

Yours truly,

eArnie

P.S. If you would like to see Michael Obranovich's work you can visit his website here.

Today I Am Sad

June 24, 2012

Today I am sad.

This is just a statement. It's not a complaint; it's not a cry for help. I am not fishing for attention – no more than usual, anyway. It really doesn't have much to do with circumstances, either. I mean, I can't say that if I had more money then I wouldn't be sad. If I fixed problem x then things would by fine. Things are fine and I am sad.

This is how it goes:

I got up yesterday and took my medicines. I drank coffee and then had a bit of breakfast. Then I putzed around the apartment a little bit, read on the patio while the cats played outside. Then I laid down for a "nap". Four hours later I woke up, and it felt like most of my Saturday was gone. So, this morning I woke up, took my medicines and went to a corporate coffee shop for morning coffee instead. That's when I noticed that I was sad.

As I've mentioned before, the meds I take have a certain side effect that kicks in when I eat or drink something other than water. (I have to take them on an empty stomach.) I made myself be out of the apartment when it hit, and that kept me from taking a nap for the rest of the day. But, it still felt strange. I don't quite know how to explain it. I saw a person drinking his coffee and I felt like I could feel how sad he was and that his whole life was futile. I felt very sorry for him. Then I felt very sorry for me because I live alone and don't have anybody to come home to in the evenings and don't have any prospects for finding somebody to come home to in the evenings. I tried to read a book called Room, which my little brother recommended as a feel-good book. Perhaps it is, but any book that actually has a plot inherently has a problem to work through, and the problem in this book made me feel very sad; it underscored how sad I felt, anyway. So, I put it down. I thought about rereading some of the letters from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, but I could tell that wouldn't be a good idea.

So, I just decided to be sad.

I got restless so I picked up my things and left the coffee shop (where I'm currently writing, by the way) and started driving. I felt hungry, so I decided to eat something, because if I don't eat something then I become Very Angry Indeed, and that takes hours to get over sometimes, so it's best just to eat something. I had a couple of tacos at a place that's supposed to have very good barbecue and breakfast tacos, but I always think that their food is just so-so, but they were there and they have fountain drinks and it was sustenance.

I went by the Goodwill that I like, but they're remodeling. So, I went over to the one on Lamar and Koenig, next to a Half Price Books store. It turns out they don't open until 11 AM, so I went into HPB and spent some time. I picked up a copy of Guernsey Literary etc. and read some of the letters. They made me feel good, but they also made me cry. It's beautiful how the characters get to know each other, and that made me cry, and it also made me cry that I don't have anybody to write a letter to. I felt very lonely. So, I put the book down and looked around at the people milling about. Some people had healthy legs, some people had skinny legs and one person had legs that made me think he constantly struggled with his weight and always would. One scruffy-looking guy was looking around and I fell in love with him. For no particular reason. I just needed to fall in love with somebody and he looks like somebody who's been to the school of hard knocks and knows how to work. He actually looked a little out of place, but one doesn't judge in a bookstore. Another guy was there who looked like the stereotype of a guy you'd expect to see in a used bookstore. Goofy clothes and haircut, thick-rimmed round glasses, walking around with his nose slightly in the air like all of this was actually beneath him but he had to be here so he may as well look and see what the cretins had on their shelves.

When it seemed that Goodwill would be open I went over there. I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I had my eyes open for interesting jars for a project that my friend Tami has on her blog, but I'm always interested to see what treasures people give to Goodwill. In the past I have found hand-made pottery by artists that Nameless recognized and there are frequently good books. I didn't find any good jars, but I did see at least three of the people from HPB. The guy with the round glasses was there with a child. Another rather young guy was there and seemed to be flirting with me. Or, should I say fishing? He looked like he was interested in something, but probably not in getting to know each other, eventually buying a house and making a life together. The impression I got was that he was interested in a more ephemeral pleasure. (I've noticed that since I turned 40 guys in their early 20's are suddenly much more interested in talking to me than guys in their early 20's were when I was in my early 20's.)  Also, the guy I fell in love with was there; he was working – volunteering I think. Probably working off community service. If I had to guess I'd say it was a drug-related offense. (I set my standards high.)

After perusing the glass section 5 times and deciding that I wasn't going to find any interesting jars or Waterford crystal I got back in my car. I was heading home but it felt good to drive. Jack Johnson was playing on the radio and music is very soothing. I drove down Burnet to a junk store that I know about. The windows have the words "Antiques" and "Collectibles" in them. Mostly it's junk. Shelves and shelves of dusty junk higher than my head and a labyrinthine layout that has about 2 feet between the shelves in some places. It's fabulous. I stayed there for about 30 minutes. I didn't find any jars to buy, but I had a very pleasant time.

Driving home I left the windows of the car down and drove slowly. I have 3 weeks worth of laundry to fold (literally) and I have pictures to hang and carpet to vacuum. It's a beautiful day, even if it's a little hot. When I got home I let my cats run around outside a little and I talked with a friend on the phone while I watered the plants on my patio. I got some of the clothes folded and answered a few emails. I was less sad than I was when I was first drinking my coffee this morning and felt like everything in my life was futile and I would never be happy.

Now I'm sitting here back at the coffee shop writing about what it feels like when the medicines that save your life affect your mind. It's a dilemma. Clearly I'm going to continue taking the medicine that keeps me from dying, but I have to learn to live with these side effects. Any choice of medicines will have side effects and frankly, these are preferable to perpetual nausea and diarrhea. But, sometimes they make me sad.

I'll write more later.

eArnie

Vorakit Chinookoswong

5-16-2012

Here's a piece of art I own. The artist is Vorakit Chinookoswong, otherwise known as Chin. I tried to take a picture of it on the bookshelf next to my beloved books, but the light wouldn't cooperate. So, since I had to take it outside I decided to show it next to a brilliantly green potato vine. 

I don't know Chin incredibly well, but I believe he is originally from Thailand, and was brought up to learn Japanese. (I learned this on the same evening we were in the back of my friend's [Namless] van – singing Abba songs from a Mamma Mia soundtrack.) As an artist, I believe he has been throwing pottery for about 294,794,742 years. (This has not been verified.) My artist friends and  my artist groupie friends all seem to have his work. I was whining about this heavily for around a year before Nameless finally broke down and got me a piece for myself.

His glazes have evolved through the years. I like the more subtle colors of his best. I especially like this one; it looks like it's old and worn off in places. He described the glaze to me once and it didn't stick in my brain, but I do know that he had to go out of his way to achieve that effect. 

All in all I like this piece. It makes me happy. 

More later,

e A r n i e

My Chin ceramic pot with his signature frog

P.S. I guess I should mention that Chin has a website: http://www.vchingallery.com/index.html. If you go there tell him eArnie sent you.